


Revolutionary Passions

by Sheepyboy



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: 18th Century, Awkwardness, British, British Empire, Declarations Of Love, Embarrassment, Erections, F/M, Fetish, Horniness, Inappropriate Erections, Master/Servant, Masturbation, Military Uniforms, Older Man/Younger Woman, Resolved Sexual Tension, Revolutionary War, Sexual Tension, Tight Pants, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepyboy/pseuds/Sheepyboy
Summary: A revolutionary war fic. Sir Henry Clinton and his housekeeper give in to their passions. Set in New York, circa 1777.
Relationships: Henry Clinton/Mary Baddeley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Revolutionary Passions

**Author's Note:**

> Clinton was known to have fathered a child with a woman who became his mistress some years after he was widowed. Some sources say that Mary Baddeley was his mistress.

Sir Henry Clinton wasn't in the mood for hosting a lavish party. Being the Commander-in-chief of New York meant he was obligated to do a certain amount of entertaining. This, he regularly complied with, but the costs of these decadent gatherings irritated him. That wasn't the only reason. Nearly all of the other British officers who attended brought wives or sweethearts along. Clinton had been widowed since 1772, and had remained on his own ever since.

His dearest Harriet. God, he had loved her so much. It had taken him a year to recover from his grief. Suddenly his life had seemed nothing but a gaping void. To cope, he filled this void with work - shutting himself away in his quarters and writing endless reports. This attitude had not endeared himself to those men who served under him, who viewed him as arrogant and distant. In recent years, Clinton had made some half-hearted attempts at wooing the ladies. His last attempt had been a complete failure. He'd appointed a housekeeper by the name of Mary Baddeley. She had excellent managerial skills and he found her very attractive. Unfortunately, she rebuffed his romantic overtures. Then a week later, she discovered her husband Thomas had been cheating on her, and had come looking for a shoulder to cry on. Clinton was sympathetic, and listened patiently to her tale of woe. He knew right from the start that her husband was a complete waste of space, but Mary had refused to see anything but good in him. Until now.

Clinton had tried unsuccessfully to procure a position in one of the Loyalist regiments for her husband, and tried without success to get him transferred out of New York. It seemed like this troublesome man would be a constant thorn in the side, but then fate intervened and Thomas eloped with his mistress.  
As the weeks passed, an air of sexual tension developed between Mary and Clinton, which grew stronger each day. Both continued their daily activities - Mary kept his living quarters in pristine condition. Guests remarked how clean and neat his house was when a party was held, and he gushed with praise for his housekeeper.

"Quite young for a housekeeper too!" one of the other officers had remarked. "One expects a housekeeper to be an old spinster woman well past childbearing age. Not a finely-rumped creature who's barely 30! "Eh, Sir Henry old chap, how DO you restrain yourself?"

Clinton felt himself blushing in embarrassment at the man's insinuations.

"Because I am a gentleman, General Howe," he had replied. "And as a gentleman, I do not wish to be privy to such vulgar suggestions. I will not allow anyone to slander a lady's honour."

"Of course not Sir Henry. Forgive me, no harm was meant. All I'm saying is...well, it's been six years...what are you now, 47? Dash it all, not in the flush of youth anymore but you're still in fine fettle. Anyways you and she...well you're both..."

"Both what?" Sir Henry snapped, becoming irritated.

"Both...unattached," Howe replied, fearing he was about to get punched in the face. He timidly offered the general a brandy in order to diffuse the situation.

"I've seen the way she looks at you," Howe said with a wink, and walked off.

Clinton shook his head and tried to focus on writing a letter. As he dipped his quill in the inkwell. He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said.

Mary entered. "Good morning sir. I brought you your morning cup of tea.  
Sir Henry visibly brightened as she approached. He quickly straightened his uniform whilst she set the tea tray down on the side table.

"Good morning Mary. Thankyou most kindly." He smiled.

"Oh, and your laundry - it is complete. I shall have your manservant take it up to your room."

Clinton nodded. "Wonderful." He wondered if he should ask her about his spare pair of breeches that went missing last week, but decided against it.  
There was an awkward silence for a few moments.

"Umm, are you well this morning Mary? You look well." He said, then regretted it.

"Oh yes sir. Very well indeed. So kind of you to say. What a kind man you are Sir Henry."

That only served to increase his awkwardness. He cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes, quite. Well I try..." He went red.

Mary smiled, "I shall leave you to your work, sir. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ring the bell. Anything at all..."

As she left his study and closed the door, he was practically squirming in his seat, with sweat breaking out on his forehead. His breeches felt unbearably tight.

"Good lord," he gasped, daring to take a deep breath. He thought of her words. Anything at all? Dear God, that conjured up all sorts of unspeakable thoughts!

He hurriedly gulped down the cup of tea in a most ungentlemanly manner, and poured himself a second cup. Ah, tea. A cup of tea solved most problems. Alas, it could not solve the one in his breeches. Sir Henry had a raging erection.

Mary returned to her bedroom. The other servants were out, and she and Sir Henry were alone in the house. She smiled at the way he'd reacted to her words. She'd made him blush. That meant something.

"I wonder. Does a fire burn in him like it is burning in me right now?"

She needed to find out. But first, a little private relief was called for. Mary locked herself in her room unlocked the bottom drawer of the bedside chest of drawers. Hidden under a pile of her own garments, she pulled out the pair of breeches belonging to Sir Henry that she'd furtively spirited away last week.  
Mary reclined on the bed, putting the stolen item of clothing to her face.

"Good heavens, what kind of debauched woman am I to do such a thing?" She thought as she inhaled deeply the scent of Sir Henry's breeches. "No, don't dwell on that, for nobody could ever find out. I am safe." The breeches smelt divine - Sir Henry wore a rather overpowering cologne - not so much dabbing it on himself, but bathing in it, it would seem. But even better, his own, musky body odour. A glorious masculine scent. Mary wondered if Sir Henry wore underdrawers beneath his breeches. Some men did - her ex-husband had done.  
They seemed most uncomfortable garments - thin linen of a sharp and scratchy variety. She did not see the point of such an item. Men could just tuck their long shirts into their breeches. Maybe Sir Henry shunned underdrawers. She hoped this was the case. The thought of Sir Henry's warm and sweaty privates encased inside these tight breeches. Bare skin against buckskin. What a splendid thought and it made her moisten greater than ever before. She licked her fingers, hiked up her petticoats and parted her pussy lips, imagining it was Sir Henry's tongue exploring the folds. She rubbed her clit and pulled it gently.  
"Sir Henry!" she murmured, fingering herself and sniffing his breeches. "My General, what a quivering joy to have you thrust thine tool inside me! I am warmed up and ready for you!"

After ten minutes or so, she wasn't getting the release she needed. It was no good, she couldn't bear it any longer. She had to have Sir Henry now - even if it meant literally leaping into his arms and pinning him against the wall.

Still attempting to write his letter, Clinton stubbornly ignored his erection.  
"I won't submit to your protestations," he said out loud, as though his cock were a person. "So you can cease your behaviour immediately and stand down."

It took ages, but eventually his erection subsided. Thank God for that, he sighed. "I must restrain myself. I am a gentleman!"  
The grandfather clock in the corner of the study struck midday. He needed a chamber pot break. It was nearly time for a spot of lunch too.

Mary hurried down the corridor, to Clinton's study. Standing in front of the General's door, Mary's heart was pounding wildly. Taking in as much air as her lungs could bear, she began to knock on the door.

"Sir Henry...I'm sorry to intrude."

"Oh that's quite alright Mary, I didn't know..." he trailed off.

"Are you busy? Because if you are..."

"Oh no, no, what can I assist you with?" Clinton was trying so hard to remain a gentleman, it made Mary crack a small smile to herself.

"I was wondering if I might talk to you," she said, looking past him into his study.

"How may I help you Mary?" he said, putting his arms behind his back.

"Sir Henry..." Mary began. "May I kiss you?"

Clinton felt far too hot all of a sudden. He'd never been put on the spot like this before. Not even all those years ago when he'd first wooed his wife. Where had all his arrogance and confidence gone?

"Umm...well I see no harm in that, Mary. If you really want to, then yes...yes you may!"

Mary placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled him close. Sir Henry was a tall man, and he stooped to meet her level. Without hesitation, Mary pressed her lips against his, and his entire body tensed. His breath had a vague scent of brandy.

"How wonderful," she purred, as their lips parted. "I'd been wanting to do that for such a long time, Sir Henry. I so deeply regret spurning your advances the first time round. How could I have been so foolish?"

Clinton's voice was trembling with nerves and arousal. "Not foolish, Mary. Loyal. You were being loyal to your husband. Whom as it turned out, was not worthy of your loyalty. I'm sorry I tried to take advantage of you whilst you were fighting to save your marriage. It was completely unjust behaviour of a senior British officer. I am ashamed. Please accept my apology."

Mary playfully ran her finger round the ornate Order of the Garter star pinned to his coat. "Oh Sir Henry. I forgive you anything," she smiled and he started to blush. "You see I've fallen most deeply in love with you..."


End file.
